


Your favorite prescription

by lucylupin



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Hospitals, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, Pre-Canon, but mostly banter, toothpick bitchslap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23122900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylupin/pseuds/lucylupin
Summary: “Oooh, were you up all night worrying about me?” Vic gives him his most sympathetic look and Eddie responds with a glare.“I wouldn’t waste a single minute of sleep thinking about you, Toothpick.
Relationships: Mr. Blonde/"Nice Guy" Eddie Cabot
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	Your favorite prescription

**Author's Note:**

> Set when they were in their early twenties (and looked like [this](https://louisewilder.tumblr.com/post/190859142487/hello-i-just-want-anyone-who-might-not-know-to-be)). Vic has spent the night in the hospital, knocked out cold and hooked to various machines. Eddie has spent it with him.  
> I can't believe I never linked this before but the amazing @nephrosoupp on tumblr drew some beautiful fanart of this fic, you can find it [here](https://nephrosoupp.tumblr.com/post/612484474276610048/louisewilder-onboardthestar-shiptitanic-gave)! check her blog because she's an amazing artist!!
> 
> From the prompt: _**"it’s not a rock, it’s a bandage. and don’t move around, your tubes’ll come loose."**_

_I want to be your favorite prescription_

_so I can run through your veins_

_I want to be your favorite doctor, baby_

_so I can take away your pains_

_..._

_I want to be your favorite pair of pajamas_

_I want to be with you every night_

_I want to be your favorite dog, baby_

_so you can teach me not to bite_

– Andre Williams, _I Wanna Be Your Favorite Pair of Pajamas_

The only sound in the room is the steady beeping of machines and the slow, deep breathing of the body laying under the sheets. There are thin plastic tubes coming out of his wrists, his nose and his underarm, and a big plastic thing hooked on one of his fingers, tracking his pulse. It is, in Eddie's opinion, a terrifying sight. So he doesn't look.

He lies draped over a deeply uncomfortable couch, sneakers hanging out over one of the armrests and head resting on the other, eyes fixed on the ceiling; he’s deeply aware of the coarse fabric of the seat making the skin of his nape itch. He listens to the slow beep-beep-beep of the machines, counting the beats and trying to match the pace of his breathing to the rhythm, looking desperately for a way to distract himself. From time to time he risks a quick glance to the clock on the wall over the bed. 11:13. The doctor said he'd wake up by 11. But he hasn't. He can't bring himself to look down at the body lying there as he ponders if he should push the button that alerts a nurse. What's the proper amount of time to wait before he can start to panic? Is he worrying too much? The sedatives couldn't possibly be so strong as to knock a guy out for more than 12 hours. Maybe Eddie has started freaking out already.

He is startled out of his train of thought by a sudden grunt. He straightens up immediately, tumbles awkwardly off the seat and approaches the bed in two hurried steps.

“Vic?”

Vic is starting to wake up, movements slow at first: a curling of the fingers, a wince of his still close-eyed face. He makes a strangled noise and coughs, bringing a hand up to his chest.

“F–fffuck, help. I'm– I'm choking. Can't breathe.” His words sound slurred as his eyes flicker open; he moves erratically, trying to sit up.

“Shit, Vic, stop it.” Eddie reaches for his arms, trying to hold them down to the mattress. “You’re fine, you're not choking.”

“There’s–there’s something on my chest,” he gasps and blinks, still struggling, “’s a weight on my chest. Who put a rock on my chest?”

Vic finally seems to focus his eyes on Eddie's, squinting at him and for a second his grasping hands relax. Eddie seizes the opportunity to hold him down and push back.

“It’s not a rock, it’s a bandage. And don’t move around, your tubes’ll come loose."

Vic blinks again, his breathing slowing and his eyes moving down to his chest and then up at Eddie again, confusion drawn on the lines of his furrowed brows. “A bandage? What I need a bandage for?” Eddie loses his grip and one of Vic's hands hovers to his chest, carefully stroking the soft white cotton with his fingertips. He prods tentatively with a finger and then winces with a sharp intake of breath. “Ouch.”

“You fucking idiot, don't touch that.” Eddie smacks the hand away, rolling his eyes. “And you need a band–”

“Hey, what happened to your face?” Vic shuts him up with the palm of a sloppy hand pressed against his cheek.

“What? Nothing happened to my face.” Eddie retreats slightly out of Vic’s touch; he can feel a blush creeping up from his chest.

“You look… puffy.”

Vic pokes his cheek with his fingers, and his frown relaxes as a dopey grin draws on his lips. “Have you been crying, Eddie?”

Eddie forces a chuckle out of his throat. “You fucking wish. I just slept like shit.” That last part is true, at least.

“Oooh, were you up all night worrying about me?” Vic gives him his most sympathetic look and Eddie responds with a glare.

“I wouldn’t waste a single minute of sleep thinking about you, Toothpick. But the piece of shit couch in this room ain't precisely comfortable.”

Vic keeps on smiling, nodding, “Sure, Nice Guy…”

Satisfied with the state his friend seems to be in, Eddie takes a step back and sits on a chair by the bed.

Vic looks at his bandage for a long moment. “So… that motherfucker did knife me, huh?”

“He did,” Eddie shrugs, “That'll teach you not to try scamming guys more dangerous than you.”

“Excuse me?” Vic looks deeply offended, “Who the fuck was there with me waiting to collect his fucking cut?”

“I was. But I'm smart, I don't put myself between a guy with a knife and his money,” Eddie says, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, so I do all the dirty work, get stabbed for you, and this is how you pay me?” There’s an edge of amusement to his voice.

“Hey! It was your fucking idea. You didn't get stabbed for nobody but yourself. And I had to pay for the fucking ambulance.”

For a second, Vic looks taken aback. His eyes trail off across the room and his expression slowly turns bleak. “Shit. Did you call my parents? I dunno if they’re gonna have the money to pay for this.”

Eddie’s eyes glance down nervously. “‘l’ll pay. I didn’t call your parents… didn’t know if you wanted me to.” His voice has lost most of its bluster.

When Eddie glances up Vic is staring at him, eyes full of disbelief. “Did you tell Joe?”

“Of course not,” he says defensively.

“Then where are you gonna get the money to pay for a hospital bill?”

“Shit Vic, it’s not like it’s the first time I take money from my dad behind his back,” Eddie shrugs. He doesn’t understand the need to justify such a superficial thing. Vic got in trouble and needs the money. Of course he’s gonna help him.

The grin comes back slowly to Vic’s face and Eddie knows that can’t mean anything good.

“I knew it.”

“Uh?”

There’s an air of satisfaction to Vic’s smug expression. “I knew you were my bitch.”

Eddie sighs with exasperation. “Vic, be thankful you're convalescing, because if you weren't I would sock you in that ugly mug of yours.”

Vic laughs, squinting his eyes at him mischievously, and beckons Eddie to move closer as he tries to sit up on the bed, an enticing look on his face like he’s saying C’mon, you wanna fight? Immediately he winces and falls back with a heavy sigh, bringing a hand to his chest. “Aw.”

“You. Fucking. Idiot.” Eddie slaps him in the ankle, just hard enough that he knows it’ll hurt a little. “Didn't I tell you not to move?”

He sits back with a roll of the eyes and a sight, as Vic pushes himself carefully up the bed, half sitting against the pillows with his legs slightly drawn up.

“Hey, you got a smoke?”

“Sure.” Eddie reaches for the inside pocket of his jacket and draws out a pack, fishing two cigarettes from it. He brings them to his lips and lights both of them at the same time. A wispy cloud of smoke escapes his mouth as he takes one of them and passes it to Vic, then balances the other on his lips and uses both arms to hop on the bed, stretching down on his back across the foot of it until his head is almost hanging off the other side.

For a while they smoke in a comfortable silence. Eddie observes Vic: the older boy takes shallow puffs of his cigarette, wincing slightly at the pressure of the bandage around his chest. He's giving a thoughtful look to the whirring machine that tracks his heartbeat, brows slightly furrowed. Eddie remembers the restless night he just spent, tossing around on the couch and blaming the incessant beeping for his inability to fall asleep. It's not that he'd been worried about his friend; after all, the doctor had assured him he'd be okay, and he's seen Vic getting hurt way worse over the years. Still, there's just so much a guy can take alone all night in a hospital room. In the end, it had been focusing on the beeping what had put him to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, its steadiness weirdly reassuring.

He watches Vic's eyes flicker from the machine to his clasped finger, and he wonders what he is thinking about. Just then he looks over at him.

“Hey Eddie…”

“Yeah?” he feels a strange tightness in his chest.

“You think if you sucked me off right now this thing would freak out?”

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they're gonna fall out, but he also snorts. “Vic, don't fucking start.”

“I’m serious… I think you could pull it off without alerting the nurses.” He takes another drag and winks. Eddie stares in disbelief.

“Is your dick the only thing you care about?”

Vic grins shamelessly, “I can spare a thought for yours, too.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I can't believe you, Vic. You're the biggest fucking faggot I ever met.”

“And yet, here you are…”

Eddie is about to bite back when the door opens, a horrified gasp coming from it.

“What do you two think you're doing?! This is a hospital, you can't smoke in here!”

Eddie scrambles to sit up, startled. The young nurse who steps in has a fierce expression on her face as she approaches the bed. She unceremoniously pulls the cigarettes from their mouths and walks over to the bathroom; they can hear the toilet flush, and then she comes back with a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Much better.” She moves to check the various machines around the bed and the tubes and bandages on Vic's body. “Now, how are we feeling this morning,” a quick glance at her clipboard, “Mr. Vega?”

Vic tilts his head down slightly, looking up at her through thick lashes with a playful smile on his lips. “I’m feeling pretty good.”

Eddie can't help rolling his eyes once more. The nurse represses a giggle without losing her composure.

“Glad to hear that. The doctor will come by in the afternoon to check on you, but I'm pretty sure you'll be discharged later today. Tomorrow morning at most.” It seems like she's about to leave but Vic stops her by reaching for her arm.

“Say... lady, I got a question for you.”

“Sure.” She crosses her arms, clipboard pressed against her chest, a look of rehearsed professionalism on her face.

“If I were to, uh… disrupt my regular heart rate, would you gals notice?”

Eddie's mouth falls open, eyes wide as saucers, but the nurse only furrows her brows slightly, “What do you mean? We're monitoring your vitals, yeah.”

“I mean, if I were to… for instance, jerk off. Would you know?”

Eddie wonders how he manages to say those things without losing that stupid flirty smile. This time the nurse can’t stop herself from laughing, her cheeks blushing with embarrassment as she brings a hand up to cover her face.

“We–we would, yeah,” she shakes her head, composing a serious face again, “So, unless you want a bunch of old nurses swarming in here because they thought you were going into cardiac arrest and catching you red-handed, I'd restrain from any… funny business.” Her eyes dart momentarily to Eddie and then back to Vic. “Any more questions?”

“Nah, we're good. Thank you.”

The nurse nods, opening the door, but before she leaves she brings up a finger and points it at them. “You two, behave. And no smoking!”

She closes the door behind her and for a moment they look at each other in silence, a smug smile still on Vic's lips.

“Well Eddie, I'm sorry, looks like my dick is off the menu.”

Eddie groans, exasperated, and falls backwards on the bed with a heavy thud. “Oh no, how will I ever survive.”

“She didn’t say anything about yours, tho,” Vic continues.

When Eddie looks over, he’s met with insolent eyes and a devilish smile.

**Author's Note:**

> the ending is terrible and rushed, I know. forgive me
> 
> you can ask me about my stupid resdog opinions on [tumblr](https://louisewilder.tumblr.com/)


End file.
